My Mother’s Journals

my_mothers_journals

A few years ago I read an article in O Magazine about a woman (Terry Tempest Williams) who, while cleaning out her mother’s home after she’d passed away, found several stacks of journals. My heart quickened at the thought, at the very idea that her mother had left behind a secret stash of books containing her most private thoughts, memories, and experiences. What I wouldn’t give to find just such a treasure-trove from my own mother.

I scanned the article, fast-forwarding to the part where Terry sat down to open the journals. I waited with baited breath to read about her mother’s innermost thoughts, her deepest and darkest secrets, or maybe even a secret life that her daughter knew nothing about. After all, this was a multi-page article in O (as in Oprah) Magazine! There just had to be something juicy in those journals. Didn’t there?

Apparently not. My mouth fell open when Terry opened journal after journal and found…wait for it…blank page after blank page. I was, to put it mildly, disappointed. More than that, I was heart broken. And so I tore the first page of the article out of the magazine and put it in a box, determined to write the words in those journals myself one day.

Mac

The real Mac.

Fast forward another year or so. I was looking through some of my mother’s photos and came across the picture you see above. I remembered my mother speaking of Mac a time or two, but I didn’t know whether he had been just a friend or a former flame.

I set the photo apart from the others I’d been looking at, and over the next few days I began to imagine a wartime love affair between Mac and Virginia (the fact that my own mother’s name had been Virginia was merely a coincidence). It would be a powerful love, but a forbidden one because Virginia is a nun. Eventually she will leave the convent, but before they can marry, the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor and Mac will heed the call to duty.

Around this time, the torn page from the O Magazine resurfaced and I knew I had found the words to fill the blank journals. My Mother’s Journals begins with the story of Olivia Hunter, whose life is in a downward spiral. As she struggles to come to terms with her husband’s infidelity, her tough exterior begins to crack and the events of the past few years (including the loss of both parents, a near-term child and her career) bring her to a breaking point.

When a stranger appears and delivers a box containing a set of her mother’s journals, Olivia begins to fit the pieces of her life back together and learns that life does not always work out the way you plan, that everyone makes mistakes, and that sometimes the person you need to forgive the most is yourself.

And so, I would publicly like to thank Terry Tempest-Williams’ mother for leaving behind a set of blank journals. For without them, this book may never have come to be.

My Mother’s Journals
Pre-Order Your Copy Today

MyMothersJournals_Vince_PRINT (6)

Print cover, designed by Melchelle Designs.

 

Excerpt from My Mother’s Journals:

Chapter Seven

Virginia

Journal Entry, August 15, 1940 (Battle Creek, Michigan):

Today is the day that began the slow unraveling of everything I’ve always thought I wanted for my life. It’s been a year since I’ve seen my family, and until I set foot inside my parents’ house, I had no reason to believe that this visit home would be any different from the ones before. But then, I hadn’t counted on my brother bringing home a friend he’d met at Boot Camp.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I can hear my brother saying, “Mac, this is my…um, this is Sister Marie Francis,” but I am already somewhere else. Somewhere I have no business being. And when Roger “Mac” MacKenzie takes the hand I’ve placed in his, something inside me stirs. My soul, I think. Yes, it must be my soul.

His eyes are the color of the sky that’s been scrubbed free of clouds, and when they look into mine, it feels as though they are reaching inside me and touching a part of me that has never been touched before. By anyone. I feel bare, exposed, as though with just a glance he knows everything there is to know about me. Continue reading

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How to Cover Up a Bonehead Move

Photo via Google images.

Photo via Google images.

It’s never a good idea to let your boss do your job for a week. Especially when it involves doing the payroll for 2,400 employees on a brand new system. Even if said boss was actually involved with the implementation of said system. Even when that boss is yours truly. Especially then.

But it happened anyway. By necessity.  A few weeks ago, my partner in crime and I were supposed to attend a week-long training on how to write reports from the new system, but since we run a weekly payroll, which takes three full days, well, we obviously couldn’t both attend. And since she is smarter than I am when it comes to learning the more technical stuff, I volunteered to stay behind and do both our jobs (or maybe it was part of a subversive subconscious strategy so that she would have to create ALL the reports from now on). I’ll never fess up to that, just saying…

Bonehead moves occur when 1) we rush, 2) we are distracted, 3) both of the above

The first bonehead move occurred on Tuesday. We track tips reported by employees in a spreadsheet and then import them into the timesheets. When I closed the spreadsheet before importing I noted that there were about 1,100 lines of data to import. After the import was complete, I noticed that only 550 lines actually imported. And so, I rushed ahead and imported the file again.

When I realized that I had just imported 550 duplicate records into the timesheets, my face burned with embarrassment. In an attempt to cover up my bonehead move, I calmly explained to the staff that “somehow, the tips got entered twice in the timesheets, but no worries, we can just delete the duplicate records.” And then, laughing a little too loudly proclaimed, “besides, it’s good practice, right?”

The second, and most important, bonehead move occurred on Wednesday. I had just begun the final calculation of the payroll when the system consultant called to help me troubleshoot another, unrelated problem. The calculation takes about 15 minutes and is the last step before finalizing the payroll.

Because I was distracted, I didn’t wait for the payroll calculation to finish before I finalized the payroll. The result? Only about 1,800 out of 2,400 actually got paid. Now, I work at a Casino, where a 75% chance of a payout would create lines around the block (heck, probably the entire town), but when it comes to employees getting paid? Not so much.

Luckily I noticed that the payroll totals were much less than they should be and called back the system consultant (whom I promptly blamed for calling me at the wrong time) and we were able to resolve the issue and get everyone paid (a day later than they’re used to getting paid but come on people, you’ve been getting paid a day early for twelve years so cut me some slack).

The moral of the story is this: If you make an embarrassing bonehead mistake, just make another (bigger) bonehead mistake and nobody will remember the first one. And if that fails, blame it on someone (or something) else.

What about you? Have you ever made a bonehead move that you’re willing to share?

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The Martini Club 4 Series

Are you fascinated with the roaring 20’s? If so, you’re in for a treat. Today I’ve invited my friend Kathy L. Wheeler and three of her friends (also known as the Martini 4) to tell you about their newest venture, the Martini Club 4 Series. And did I mention, each of the ladies is giving away a copy of their Martini 4 book? That’s four books we’re giving away!

Take it away, Kathy.

Martini 4

 http://facebook.com/martiniclub4

Krysta Scott, Amanda McCabe, Kathy L Wheeler and Alicia Dean have a unique friendship. Yes, they are all romance writers, and at different stages in their writing careers. But every Friday night, schedules permitting, they meet at the Martini Lounge in Edmond, Oklahoma where they chitchat, plan retreats, and for just a general get away.

Over a period of time the idea to create a series of stories where the Martini Lounge would serve as a backdrop—well, as writers, that was inevitable. So there they are with their first go at it. Welcome to 1920s New York City where four young women run away from England excited to make their own way in a new world.

Fun facts the Martini Club 4 authors:

Amanda McCabe: I collect Eiffel Tower items (statuettes, lamps, paintings, whatever–my husband counted 32 Eiffel Towers recently).  And yes, I do love to visit Paris. :)

Alicia Dean: I named my son ‘Presley’, in honor of Elvis, and he is now 22 and a big Elvis fan.

Kathy L Wheeler: I once sang at the Oklahoma Opry. I sang Paper Roses and threw paper roses out into the audience. Hmmm. Maybe Meggie being a singer was not so farfetched…

Krysta Scott: The heroine in my story is loosely based on my eldest daughter. When she was a middle schooler, I would come home to find her glued to food network. At first I laughed. Then I was sitting right next to her soaking up the cooking wisdom. We spent many an hour downloading and cooking the recipes. Now that she has graduated college, she works in two commercial kitchens and wants to go to culinary school. To be a baker just like Charlotte.

Here’s a sneak peak at the upcoming Martini 4 Series, to be released on February 26.

Martini 4 book covers

Rebellious – Amanda McCabe: Can an aristocratic lady melt the cold heart of a Russian gangster? 

Amazon buy link: amzn.to/1MqVcMf
Contact info: http://ammandamccabe.com

Ruined – Alicia Dean: She vowed she’d be no man’s doxy, but fate had other plans… 

Amazon buy link: http://amzn.com/B00RICLM2I
http://aliciadean.com
http://aliciadean.com/alicias-blog/
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008364070487
https://twitter.com/Alicia_Dean_
http://www.pinterest.com/aliciamdean/

Reckless - Kathy L Wheeler: Lady Margaret turned Lady Bootlegger…

Amazon buy link: http://amzn.com/B00RICW0G0
Contact info: http://kathylwheeler.com
http://kathylwheeler.blogspot.com
http://facebook.com/kathylwheeler
http://twitter.com/kathylwheeler
http://pinterest.com/kathylwheeler

Runaway - Krysta Scott: Can she prove her innocence before more than her dreams are destroyed? 

Amazon buy link: http://amzn.com/B00RIFHGPC
Contact info: http://krystascottauthor.com

The Martini 4 Series is available now for pre-order for just $.99. Just click the Amazon buy links for any of the books, or drop a comment below to be entered for a chance to win one of the four books in the series (Kindle version only). Winners will be chosen on Friday, February 20th.

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A Brand New Perspective

Foggy Day Runner

The following took place on Sunday, January 11, 2015

It’s foggy today. Not pea-soup foggy, but foggy enough that, as I reach the top of the levy where I do my three-mile run every Sunday morning, I feel as though I’ve stepped into an episode of the twilight zone. Or maybe a set from one of the Twilight-saga movies.

As I begin to run, the path—normally littered with runners on a Sunday morning—is eerily empty. Am I alone in some parallel universe? Have the others been vaporized? Or carried off by a giant pterodactyl? Will it be coming for me?

Pterodactyl

Finally, a silhouette appears in the distance. From all appearances, it is a human form. As it gets closer, and closer still, I eye it suspiciously, half expecting to see wings sprout from its back and sigh in relief when it passes without incident.

The trees that line the path along the river teem with life. I stop and listen. When I close my eyes I think I am in a dense jungle in South America. I think that the birds must feel safe in the fog, must instinctively know that we can’t see them and they pour their hearts out in song. Beautiful melodies in un-orchestrated fashion.

ÉñÃعîÒìµÄÍòÊ¥½Ú±ÚÖ½

The sun looks more like a full harvest moon as it peers through the fog, desperately trying to claim the sky and I think it will succeed, but not yet. Please, not yet. I might actually be dreaming right now, and if I am, I’m not yet ready to wake.

I pass a boat, a big boat—the kind that has a lower compartment—moored to a tree. I believe it is the same boat moored to the same tree as it was last week. Its occupants are nowhere to be seen, and I begin to wonder. Has a mysterious sea creature snatched them from the ship and eaten them alive? Or have the owners simply abandoned ship? And then I laugh. It’s been months since I’ve written anything new on my latest masterpiece, next great American novel, current work in progress, but clearly my muse is not dead.

As the parking lot comes into view, I think this is most extraordinary run I’ve ever had. I’ve run this path a thousand times, but today I saw it in a way I could never have imagined. Today I saw it from a brand new perspective.

New Perspective

And then I think, maybe that’s what I need at work: a new perspective. For months I’ve been working in a pressure cooker. Putting out fires and solving problems relating to a new multi-system implementation while my regular work continues to pile up. I am tired and I am overwhelmed.

Maybe it’s time to look at each problem as an opportunity. An opportunity to be of service, to learn, to build relationships with people. I have five days left before I leave for the much needed MEcation. Five  days to work on a healthier, more productive way of dealing with stress. I don’t know if it’s really that easy, but I think I’ll give it a try.

What about you? Has looking at an old problem with a new perspective ever helped you? I’d love to hear about it.

Coming soon: How to Cover Up a Bonehead Move

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The MeCation: How to Recognize When You Need One

Imagine yourself on your worst day. Crap piling up in stacks around you. People coming at you from every direction, wanting something from you NOW. Everything that could go wrong does go wrong. Late nights, early morning, missed deadlines. Days turn into months and nothing changes. The piles of crap around you just keep getting bigger. And bigger.

Throw in insomnia and the fact that somehow, all of your pants have simultaneously shrunk two sizes (must be the new dry cleaner, could NOT be the mounds of chocolate you’ve been consuming to deal with all the STRESS).

And it all comes down to this. On January 1st, the system you’ve been implementing will either work (and employees will actually receive a pay check), or you’ll be receiving your final pay check, er, IOU.

But before January 1st even arrives, you’ve turned into something like this:

Crazy Woman

Or this:

Crazy Woman2

You’ve become unrecognizable, even to yourself. And your husband dares to ask, “what is wrong with you?” And then makes the mistake of saying, “it has to be your hormones.”

And you begin to wonder, is the desire to savagely club someone (anyone at all) linked to a rise in hormones? Because if it is, maybe you can plead insanity.

Or maybe you should just take yourself on an extended MEcation. Not a VAcation because really, who would want to go on vacation with you right now? No, it must be a MEcation.

Here’s what you’ll need.

A few of these:

stack of books

A lot of this:

Champagne

Throw in one of these:

massage

Five days and nights of this:

Ocean House

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll come home looking like this:

cat in hammock

What about you? Have you ever taken a Me-cation? I want to know!

 

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What I Know for Sure

what i know for sure

Every week, at the end of her Soul Series show on Sunday, Oprah asks a series of questions to her guest. One of them is, “What do you know for sure?”

I’ve long contemplated this question, and as the end of a particularly difficult year draws to a close, here’s what I know for sure.

 “To simply wake up every morning a better person than when I went to bed.”
~sidney poitier

I will never be the person I want to be.
I have moments, fleeting moments…glimpses of the person I want to be—giving, caring, easy going and able to find humor even in the most challenging situations—before she slips away, replaced by that rigid, impatient, imperfect person. But knowing the person I want to be makes me strive, even in my weakest moments, to be the best person I can be.

And what I know for sure is, who I am right now is enough. Just ask my dog.

Stop this train
I want to get off
And go home again
I can’t take the speed it’s moving in
I know I can’t
But honestly, won’t someone stop this train
~john mayer, stop this train

Time waits for no one.
When you’re sixteen, fifty is OLD. Heck, thirty is old. When you’re young, you have the whole world at your disposal and all the time in the world to figure out what you want to be when you grow up.

When I was young(er) I would while away the hours talking on the phone to a friend or a sister just to pass the time. We’d talk for hours about nothing. We didn’t solve the world’s problems. We probably didn’t even solve our own. And if I wasn’t on the phone, I was watching mindless television.

But lately, now that I’m in my fi…fi…fifties, I have a sense of urgency about my life. A sense that there are only so many hours and days left and I don’t want to squander them. I want…need…them to count.

And so now there is less time for meaningless small talk, less time for mindless television, zero time for pointless arguments about things that won’t matter a day, a week, even a year from now and more time for creating, resting and simply being in the moment.

The Simple things in life

The smallest things make up the greatest happiness.
I’ve been fairly successful in my career. I have a nice home, lots of nice things, have traveled to many places. But the older I get, the more I realize that the things that bring me the most joy are the things that money can’t buy.

After dinner one night on a recent trip to Kauai, my husband and I took our chairs down to the beach, reclined and stared up at the sky. As if in greeting, a star shot across the sky and we both gasped with wonder. Over the next thirty minutes we saw several more shooting stars before walking back to our cottage in silence.

Earlier this week an enormous dark cloud flew overhead. As I glanced up it erupted into a million tiny fragments, with birds flying in every direction before rejoining and moving once more into cloud formation. It was truly breathtaking.

Last night, as I sat up in bed listening to soothing music on the television, I watched my two little dogs sleeping. As Max snored softly, Annabelle’s front paws began to twitch as if she were chasing a squirrel, or maybe a bird, through a meadow. Tears filled my eyes at the pure innocence of these two precious creatures that God has entrusted to me.

I can’t remember the last time I cried tears of joy or gasped in wonder when buying or receiving even the coolest material possession.

Can you?

What about you? What do you know for sure?

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For the Love of Annabelle

On February 29, 2008, Annabelle Hope Vince came into my life. Though I’d had a dog as a child, as an adult I’d never wanted one and wasn’t particularly fond of them. When my friends would talk about their dogs—refer to them as their “children”–I would roll my eyes and shake my head. I didn’t get it.

I was a cat person. I had two of them and they were perfectly good company. I loved them a lot. But I wasn’t all “gaga” about them. Not the way that every dog owner I knew was. And then, for reasons I still can’t explain, around the end of 2007 I started feeling like I wanted a dog. More than wanted, actually. Needed.

Annabelle at 4 months. Photo by Suzanne Whitfield Vince.

Annabelle at 4 months. Photo by Suzanne Whitfield Vince.

I needed a dog. And a few weeks later, Annabelle Hope came into our lives. And our lives have never been the same. While we still have our cats, and couldn’t love them more, Annabelle has taught us both new lessons about unconditional love. And patience. And joy in the simplest things in life. She is, in every respect, our furry “child.” [So is her brother Max, who came into our lives a year later, but that’s another blog entirely.]

On Thursday I will be taking Annabelle to the hospital at UC Davis, where she will undergo a liver biopsy and be hospitalized for two days. My husband and I have known this for several weeks, and have agonized over the decision to put her through such an invasive procedure, but after doing all the non-invasive tests with no conclusions, we know that the only way to get the answers we seek (and hopefully a treatment that might save or extend her life) is to do the biopsy.

I’ve been told by a friend who works as a physician at UC Davis that the veterinary hospital there is second to none. They have operating rooms with surgeons and anesthesiologists. They have an ICU where dogs, cats, horses, etc., are on ventilators. People come to UC Davis from all over the country with their sick or injured animals. And we’re lucky enough to have it in our own back yard.

And yet, we still wonder if we’re doing the right thing. What if there are complications (bleeding being the most common with a liver biopsy)? And, she only weighs 9 pounds—what if they give her too much anesthesia? Now, in the final few days before the Big Day, every time she plays with her favorite toy I wonder, will this be the last time I get to watch her in all her glorious sillines? Will this be the last night she sleeps with her head on my shoulder?

And I wonder if, after handing her over to strangers who will do “bad things” to her for two days, she will still be the same trusting, loving dog she’s always been. Will she forgive me? Because I know what it feels like to have that trust betrayed when you’re unable to understand what is really going on.

I was five when it happened to me. My sister and I were fighting. She chased me down the stairs. I stood at the bottom and peered up at her, wondering if she was going to come after me. She didn’t. Instead, she sought her revenge with words. And they injured me worse than any form of sisterly punishment I could imagine.

“Ha ha, you’re to the hospital tomorrow to have an operation.”

Wait, what?

Image Courtesy of Google Images

Image Courtesy of Google Images

My mom tried to explain that I had a hernia (probably from giving said sister a piggyback ride—at least that’s my story), and that the only way to fix it was to operate. I begged my mom to change her mind. I promised to be good and never hit my sister anymore (even in self-defense). But the following morning, before the sun even rose, my daddy lifted me out of bed and off I went to the hospital. I remember clinging to him and screaming when it was time for surgery.

And now, on the eve of doing the same thing to my furry child, I imagine that the decision my parents had to make regarding my surgery—discuss and try to rationalize with a 5-year old or wait until the morning of and blindside her—was a very difficult decision.

I did forgive my parents (and my sister), and now have a new level of appreciation for all the decisions parents have to make on behalf of their children (furry or human). All we can do is make the best decisions we can and pray they are the right ones. Unfortunately, more often than not, the right ones are the hardest ones to make.

What about you? Have you had to make a difficult decision that affected the life of someone you love? How did you deal with it?

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It’s Release Day: Life, Take Three

It’s Release Day for my second book Life, Take Three!!

*drops confetti, toots horn*

Confetti

To celebrate the occasion, I am giving away a FREE copy (Kindle only) to the first three people to leave a comment below.

In addition, Life, Take Three is part of my BOGO offer, valid until December 24, 2014. CLICK HERE for details.

Happy reading!!

Life Take Three Smaller Cover

 Groundhog Day meets Heaven Can Wait

Attorney Isabel Stevens’s life is in a downward spiral. On the worst day of her life, she is killed in a fatal car crash. After discovering a loophole in the No Returns policy in heaven, Isabel is given a one-time opportunity to relive the last day of her life. The only rule? Everything must happen exactly as it did the first time around.

With the help of a guardian angel, Isabel begins to see where her life went off course. When the day is up and she returns once more to heaven, she pleads for the opportunity to go back and make things right. Her wish is granted, but when she learns the price she must pay, she begins to wonder whether she’s up to the task. Determined to find a way out of her dilemma, she accepts the terms. Will she succeed and live to see another day? Or will she defy the agreed-upon terms and suffer the consequences?

BUY your copy today!

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Cyber Monday BOGO Book Deal

Buy One Get One Free Sale

It’s CYBER MONDAY, and to celebrate the occasion, I am offering a Buy One Get One FREE deal, beginning today.

Here’s how it works:

  • Buy either one of my books (Kindle format only) and I will gift a copy of either book to you or someone of your choosing
  • Email receipt of purchase to me at: Suzanne@suzannevince.com
  • In the body of the email, include the name of the FREE title you would like, the name of the person it should be gifted to, and the email address associated with said person’s Amazon account

That’s all you need to do!

CLICK TO BUY

Offer valid through December 24, 2014.

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For the Love of Jack

Jack1

Photo courtesy of Karen Chamberlain

Meet Jack. A four pound Maltese dog. But he’s more than that to his mom, Karen Chamberlain. I asked Karen to stop by today to talk about Jack.

“Why don’t we start with what Jack means to you.”

“Jack is my child. I know that’s hard for some people to relate to, but he really is, that’s really how I feel about him. He came into my life when he was just 9 weeks old and 1 lb., at a time in my life when I wanted someone to take care of, someone to look after apart from myself, and it’s been my joy to love him and care for him ever since. He’s more than my dog, he’s my baby, and my soul mate. We have a connection that goes beyond owner and pet.”

Jack2

Photo courtesy of Karen Chamberlain

On November 11, 2013, thieves ransacked Karen’s apartment in Studio City, California, and stole Jack.

“When the thieves took him, they ripped out part of my heart, and his.  He’s just waiting for me, he’ll always think he’s in a temporary life and that mom will be there soon and take him home.  That’s one of the hardest things about this, knowing that he was scared, knowing that he’s still confused, and not being able to do anything about it.”

Theft of pets, especially pure-breeds like Jack, is on the rise:

 

Karen is offering a $5,000 reward with a no-questions-asked return policy.

While there was nothing Karen could have done to prevent Jack from being stolen, I asked her what people can do to protect their pets.

“First, microchip them.  It’s NOT a GPS tracker, but it’s the only way to tie your pet to your name and contact information (a collar with tags is great if your dog or cat wanders off and some kind person finds them, but if they’re stolen, that can be removed, so do both). Be sure to register the chip and keep up the registration. And then there are the obvious things: don’t leave your pet unsupervised where they can be grabbed—your yard, tied up outside a store, etc. Most dogs are stolen because they’re easy marks. Treat them like you would your child, because that’s how they feel about us–we’re they’re world, they don’t want to be apart from us, and when they’re taken away, they can’t find some kind policeman or helpful adult and tell them what happened.”

I asked Karen what she’s done to find Jack.

“I’ve done pretty much everything that anyone has suggested: a Pet Amber Alert and a Home Again alert; I was on the local news right after it happened, and again recently when ABC7 did a story about pet theft; I’ve posted and distributed fliers all over L.A., and to groomers and vets. I’ve handed them out at pet-related events; I’ve worked with a private detective; started a Facebook page for him that has brought together animal lovers from all over who have been unbelievably supportive and have helped look for him, both online and by pounding the pavement; I’ve posted on various lost pet sites; placed bumper sticker magnets of his flier on my car and on several friends’ cars; scoured the internet, the animal shelters, Maltese rescue sites, craigslist, ebay, etc.); I’ve even talked to animal communicators and psychics. I also pray and meditate.”

Karen will never stop looking for Jack. Will never stop wondering where he is and if he’s okay. If he knows his mom is looking for him and how worried she is about him.

Photo courtesy of Karen Chamberlain

Photo courtesy of Karen Chamberlain

If you’ve ever known the love of animal, then you understand the depth of Karen’s love for Jack. And perhaps a bit of the devastation she feels every day that her fur baby is missing.

Jack3 Jack is Missing

What can you do to help?

“A good friend is always reminding me that ‘it just takes one’—one person can make all the difference. So the more people who are aware, however we can reach them, the more likely we are to find that one person. Jack was most likely sold pretty quickly, which means he could be living anywhere now. And he could very well be living with someone who doesn’t  even realize he was stolen. So spreading the word is vital.”

And if you happen to see a pup that looks like Jack?

“If you think you see Jack, and you can (without putting yourself in danger) get a picture of him, you can text or email me, along with information about where he’s living, that’s great. I guess it all depends on the circumstances you see him in.If he’s with someone who is easy to talk to, who seems like the kind of person who’d be horrified to know they have a stolen dog, then it’s likely they’d be willing to talk to you. Show them Jack’s flier, ask them to call me.  If he’s with people who don’t seem safe to approach, well, that’s harder. I don’t want anyone putting themselves in harm’s way. But let me know where you think he is, and if you can sneak a photo to text or email me, then I can see if it’s him and take steps to recover him. I truly, truly am not interested in where or how or from whom they got him, I just want him back.”

No matter where you live, please help spread the word by sharing this post with your friends. Help Karen bring Jack home. You never know, you could be the one person to make a difference.

Find Jack on Social Media:
https://www.facebook.com/HelpFindJackTheMaltese
https://twitter.com/search?q=%23jackismissing&src=typd
email: lost_jack07@yahoo.com
call or text: 818-452-8722

Please use hashtag #JackisMissing.

 

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